The mountain had a way of swallowing people whole.

Storms rolled through its spine like hungry ghosts, snow burying trails within minutes, freezing men where they stood if they were foolish enough to wander too far. The people in the city below spoke of the mountain in hushed voices, as if it were alive. But they spoke of Tom even quieter.

Some called him a madman.Others called him a monster.

Children were warned that if they wandered too close to the forests lining the mountain trails, the man in the wooden cabin would drag them into the woods and they'd never come home again.

Tom preferred it that way.Fear kept people away. Silence kept him sane. For twenty years, the mountain had been his only companion.

Twenty years since he'd buried his wife beneath a sky so gray it looked carved from stone. Twenty years since grief hollowed him out and left behind something colder, rougher. The city had continued spinning without him while he disappeared into the wilderness, building a life out of timber, smoke, blood, and survival.

His cabin sat deep within the mountains like something torn from another century. Lantern light instead of electricity. Firewood stacked beside the porch. Rifles mounted above the fireplace. Animal pelts drying near the stove.A hard life.A lonely one.But loneliness stopped hurting after enough winters.

Snow crunched heavily beneath Tom's boots as he returned from the forest, an axe resting over one shoulder and chopped wood tied behind him. The evening storm was already beginning to gather above the peaks, dark clouds swallowing what little daylight remained.

That was when he saw it.

Blood.

Tiny crimson drops scattered against the white snow.

Tom stopped instantly.

Every muscle in his body tightened.The trail stretched toward his cabin.

Slowly, silently, he lowered the wood from his back and reached for the rifle slung beside him. His large hand wrapped around the weapon with practiced ease, eyes narrowing beneath the shadow of his beard as he followed the blood through the snow.

The front door was slightly open.

Tom never left doors open.The wind pushed it inward with a low creak.His grip tightened on the rifle.

One careful step at a time, he approached the cabin, boots soundless against the wooden porch. The lantern light inside flickered weakly through the crack in the doorway, throwing trembling shadows across the floorboards.

Then he pushed the door open fully.The warmth inside hit him first.

Then the blood.

A trail of it stained the wooden floor, smeared like someone had crawled through the cabin in desperation.

Tom's gaze snapped toward the figure collapsed near the fireplace.

A girl.Young. Barely conscious.

Snow melted into puddles beneath her trembling body while her clothes clung to her skin, soaked through from the storm outside. Her lips were pale blue, breathing weak and uneven from the cold.

And clamped viciously around her left leg was a steel trap.

Its metal jaws had torn deep into flesh.

Blood spread slowly beneath her.

Tom stood frozen in the doorway for one long second, the storm growling outside behind him while the girl lay half-dead on his floor. and she wasn't sure whether she'd found salvation...

Or something worse.